


inside my arms

by snowmissus (soul_of_blaze)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Have a Happy Hobbit Holiday Gift Exchange, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Yuletide, just a lot of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21677392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soul_of_blaze/pseuds/snowmissus
Summary: Bilbo Baggins expects that Yuletide will be the same as it ever has been and that he will spend as he always has since his parents died - alone.But sometimes the best gifts are the ones that come unexpectedly.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 20
Kudos: 201
Collections: Have A Happy Hobbit Holiday 2019





	inside my arms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neleangela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neleangela/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this and have happy holidays!

Winters in the Shire were much the same as they had always been, no matter what changes Bilbo Baggins himself had gone through before he’d returned home. The snow settled comfortably on top of the hobbit holes, the very few flowers that could survive the snow, for the Shire itself wasn’t as cold as one might imagine, would poke through. It painted a lovely picture, if one were to stand on the edge of the Shire, as the sun set beyond the iced tops of the rolling hills and the snowed-in valleys. 

Five years on since his arrival home, Bilbo had confirmed this very fact. 

Before the intrusion of thirteen dwarves into his life, he would not have found this to be out of line. Why, of course, the Shire would continue on its way as it always had. There was nothing that could sway its course of doing so. Hobbits had little reason to worry or care about what happened outside of their comfortable holes and the safety of the Shire. 

Except for one hobbit. One Bilbo Baggins, who had learned five years ago, that there was quite a lot more to his world than the Shire. 

He had tried to settle back into the daily life of a hobbit gentleman, but it wasn’t as easy as it should have been. For instance, Bilbo still felt the itch to run back out his door and down the road, as if he’d find a dwarf waiting for him in the woods on their way to Bree. Or that he might open the door one morning to a nosy wizard inviting him on a rather long walk. None of these ideal daydreams came to be, but he couldn’t help them pacing through his mind. 

It had been five years, though, and even though he had a good amount of correspondence with Erebor and her many dwarves, nothing had been said or suggested about another adventure. Bilbo supposed he had made it clear that another adventure was not an invitation he would enjoy, but perhaps he should have made it clearer that adventures did not include visits or a warm invitation to visit the mountain again. 

Now, one might say that Mister Baggins could very well invite himself to see his old friends, but as a Baggins, it would be squarely on the rude side to invite himself to someone else’s homes. 

Rude indeed. 

That, of course, brings up to the now in our story. 

Bilbo Baggins, much as he had any other day over the last five years, had sat expectantly for a guest or two during tea time. When there had been no knock on the door, no abrupt presence at his tea table, Bilbo stood and began clearing the table of its burden. 

It wasn’t like Bilbo hadn’t had a guest for tea recently. He had. Cousins and neighbors, and their ilk were more than happy to join him at the table every so often. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his cousins or neighbors (though he could definitely make that argument for some of them), but they were not the guests that he wanted at his table. Those guests would tower over him, they would have to wipe their feet at the door, and deposit weapons along the way, and they’d likely eat him out of house and home more than any other hobbit would. 

He supposed it wasn’t much to trouble himself with. 

After all, it was the beginning of winter, Yuletide around the corner, and Bilbo couldn’t expect that one of his many dwarves might appear before him when he wished for them. The trek from Erebor was enough on its own and to make it before winter would be worse. As they all knew well enough from the first journey to Erebor. 

No, he knew that they weren’t going to appear in his smial just because he wished for them to. 

Bilbo let a soft sigh out, stacking the teacups into each other and carrying the tray back to the kitchen. He knew he shouldn’t let them sit in the sink, unwashed, but he didn’t feel like standing there to do the washing at that moment. He’d do it, in a moment. Besides, he had to pack the remaining scones and store them back in the pantry. 

His mind must have been quite occupied with those thoughts, for he did not notice the large shadow at his tea table until he had reached the edge of it. Slowly, Bilbo raised his head and his eyes widened. Someone had snuck into his hole when he wasn’t paying enough mind to notice! 

Quite like a rabbit, Bilbo froze in fright. 

If any of the dwarves had been witness to him, they might have smacked themselves in the forehead at his reaction. They’d tried to teach him to act, even in fright, but there hadn’t been that much success in that endeavor. 

Bilbo found it worse that even if he had the mind to move, to attack, he wouldn’t have much of anything to defend himself with. The butter knives had been put away, as the spoons and forks had, and Sting hung ornamentally over his fireplace. 

He hadn’t any use for it! 

The dark shape moved and the air that Bilbo had been holding it let out in a rush of surprise laughter. 

“Bilbo,” a deep, familiar voice said. Dwalin’s familiar face came into view as the fright taking over Bilbo’s sense bled away into relief. “Ye said not to knock. Aye?”

“That I did, mister Dwalin,” Bilbo said, chuckling nervously and sticking his thumbs under his suspenders. Goodness. This was a surprise. “Though I do believe that I said tea was at four, and it is well past four. Unless you dwarves run on a different time, in which case, I’d ask that you let me know!”

Dwalin chuffed at him, and Bilbo noticed then that he’d nabbed one of the remaining scones. There were crumbs in his beard. “We misjudged the traveling time between Bree and the Shire. Thought we’d get here just before your tea time, but we ran into a stray pack of wolves and had to dispatch ‘em.”

“I’m sure that the local rangers will be thankful that you-- wait, hold on, we?” 

Before Dwalin could answer his question, there was the sound of crashing from the pantry and Bilbo lept to his feet. He skid around the corner and into the pantry, where he found a trio of dwarves this time. Less surprised this time, Bilbo had the wits about him to place his hands on his hips and raise an eyebrow at the three before him. 

If he hadn’t seen Dwalin first, this scene might have frightened him. 

After all, the appearance of the two princes of Erebor wrestling in his pantry over the dried fish he’d set aside was a sight in itself. Coupled only by Balin standing to the side and watching them, but not making a move to move them away from the dried fish or from the tomatoes they were likely to knock over if they didn’t stop soon. 

“I see that you couldn’t help yourselves from keeping out of my pantry,” Bilbo said, looking between the guilty looks on the two younger dwarves’ faces before he settled his disapproving gaze on Balin. “I hope that you were trying to keep these two from making a mess of my pantry, Balin, and not encouraging them.”

“Ah, Bilbo, my lad, you say that as if I would do any different!” Balin chuckled as he approached the hobbit. 

The apparent tension in Bilbo’s shoulders bled away and he accepted the warm hug from his old friend. All of this happening at once was too much for him, really, but he at least had learned how to handle this bunch of dwarves. Enough that he wouldn’t lose his temper like he had the first night they’d invaded Bag End. 

“I suppose I do not have to ask if there are more of you coming, do I?”

“Aye,” Balin said, letting Bilbo out of the hug before he turned on the two princes. “Let’s leave Bilbo to it, boys. I’m sure he has a better idea of what he’ll need to feed all of us, and doesn’t need you two making a worse mess of his pantry than the last time.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo said to Balin, before he found himself swept in two pairs of arms. 

“Boys!” Bilbo yelped, shoving at one of their heads weakly. He didn’t mind the hug so much as he minded being lifted up off the ground and into the air, which was exactly what the pair was doing at the moment. “Let me down! Let me down, now!”

It took another moment of yelling at them, but eventually, the two let Bilbo down onto his feet. With that, Bilbo brushed at his clothes and glared at the pair of them. They had the sense to look somewhat guilty for hoisting him into the air like that, which was enough for him. 

“Please, go move the tables so that we might fit everyone in for dinner,” Bilbo said, shooing them away from the pantry and out down the hall. Once they were on their way, he turned back to Balin, who was sneaking a mug of ale. He didn’t look at all guilty. “Is it… all of you?”

“Not everyone is here just yet, but if you are asking if we will all be here, then aye. You should be prepared for a full table again.” Balin said, then paused mid-drink. “Minus the wizard.”

“Well enough,” Bilbo said, sighing as he thought back to that first night and how badly it had gone. This time, he had some foresight of time to prepare a proper dinner. A Baggins would not be disrespected in his hosting skills, after all. “But… everyone? You don’t mean to tell me that Thorin has journeyed to the Shire as well?”

The idea that Thorin, that the king of Erebor, might have left his mountain they’d worked so hard to reclaim, just to visit Bilbo in the Shire, that was a thought he didn’t want to linger on too long. It invited too many thoughts, ones that he was afraid to entertain.

“Of course he has,” Balin said, then laid a gentle hand on Bilbo’s arm. “Why shouldn’t he have? He is your friend as much as any of us are, isn’t he? Unless I am mistaken.”

“No, no,” Bilbo said, swallowing back the stinging feeling. They’d forgiven each other. They had. There was nothing to worry about. “He is as welcome as any of you are, of course. I only thought… surely, he is much too busy with Erebor to make that journey out here to the Shire.”

To see me, went unspoken, but he had a feeling that Balin knew exactly what he was thinking. Balin always did seem to hear what Bilbo couldn’t say. 

“If you must know,” Balin said, returning his hand to his side as he watched Bilbo began his perusal of the pantry. He’d have to make a stew or something… it was too late for the pot roast he’d have preferred but he’d make do for his friends. “Thorin has to meet with delegates at the Blue Mountains west of the Shire. Their meeting is set for the spring. We thought it in our best interest to set out before the weather grew worse. If need be, we can take a short rest in the mountains before the meeting, but I believe that we had hopes you would not mind extended guests.”

“Mind it?” Bilbo asked, turning back to Balin in surprise. He couldn’t help the wide smile on his face. “I do not mind at all! You are more than welcome to stay, as long as you all like. Goodness knows, Bag End has the room and it will feel more like a home to have you all here, even if only for…?”

“If you allow us, I should think you will enjoy our company through the rest of the winter. I’m afraid the mountain pass between the Shire and Ered Luin will likely be unusable in a week or so.”

“That would be…” Bilbo’s hands faltered as he reached for a jar further up on the shelves. There was a pang in his chest, at the idea of spending the winter among friends. He had been alone the last few years, and the idea that he might have time that wasn’t to himself made his chest warm. “That would be lovely, Balin. Really. Rather unexpected, but that seems to be a theme for us, doesn’t it?”

At that, Balin chuckled. It brought the ghost of a smile to Bilbo’s face and he went back to rummaging through the pantry. Dinner for the night could be dealt with, but he would have to make a trip to the market in the morning, or else the dwarves would eat him out of his smial before the day was out. Hopefully, he’d be able to secure enough meat for the dwarves, else they might have to figure something else out. It wasn’t like the Shire was used to feeding the ranks of dwarves that would now be making their home in Bag End for the foreseeable winter. 

“Where is everybody else?” Bilbo asked, noticing then that the only dwarves that had graced Bag End with their presence were the two pairs of brothers. 

“On their way,” Dwalin said, pushing past Bilbo to grab a bowl of dried fruit. The face he pulled at it made Bilbo roll his eyes fondly. “Had to set up the ponies somewhere and we weren’t sure if you were goin’ to…”

The hand gesture Dwalin made didn’t quite communicate what he wanted but Bilbo set down the basket of onions and crossed his arms. 

“Dwalin. You lot are welcome in Bag End any time. We had that conversation years ago.” 

“Course,” Dwalin said, smiling at Bilbo. “But you know how Thorin can be sometimes. Thickheaded, ‘e is.” 

“Is that how you speak about your king?” Bilbo asked, amusement coloring his tone as he walked back to the kitchen. He wasn’t sure if there would be time for a proper stew, but he was going to try and make something decent for the dwarves. 

“E’s not the only one,” Dwalin muttered. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Nothin’, Bilbo.” Dwalin smiled, which only led Bilbo to feel rather uneasy. He brushed it off as the nerves of having the dwarves around and started on the stew. 

It was a simple affair, really, to cook the stew up but he enjoyed it. He enjoyed knowing that he was making something for his friends and that he was not cooking for himself alone. It was a nice feeling, one that warmed him to the bottom of his core. There would be dwarves all over the smial, dwarves in his hair for days, and he could hardly fault that. He would complain, he would, but there would be no denying the warm smile on Bilbo’s face as he did so. 

So long as they were there, Yuletide would be at least somewhat enjoyable. 

“Oh!” Bilbo turned on his heel and very nearly ran into Fili. “Goodness. Do speak up, Fili. What is it?” 

“Did you need any help?” 

“Hm,” Bilbo turned back to the stew, shaking his head. “If you have the same skills as your uncle when it comes to cooking, I would very much prefer that you did not try to help me. Oh, but, actually, I am worried that your uncle is going to buy rooms at the Green Dragon when you’re all more than welcome here for free. Perhaps someone should go tell him…” 

“Oh, aye, you should,” Fili agreed. 

Before Bilbo could protest his words, he felt the hands of the dwarven prince steering him away from the beginnings of the stew. They were joined by another pair, and when Bilbo glared over his shoulder, he caught sight of Kili’s familiar mischievous grin. 

“Do let me go!” Bilbo snapped, attempting to dig his heels in and stop their practical carrying him to the round door of Bag End. 

“Listen, we are already setting everything up inside, and oh, look, there’s Bombur. Bombur! You can cook up something for our lot, can’t you?” Kili grinned, waving down Bombur as he came through the front door with Bofur and Bifur. 

“On it,” the large dwarf declared, lumbering past them towards the kitchen. “Don’t worry, Bilbo. The food and kitchen will be in my hands. I won’t let the boys touch a thing.”

“I suppose there is that…” Bilbo managed, and he did not have even a moment to hug Bofur, which he would have liked to do. Nor a greeting for Bifur as the two princes brought him right up the door. 

“Let’s see, it is cold out…” Fili said, depositing Bilbo back onto his feet. When he tried to push back past them, Kili grabbed his shoulders and redirected him, just as Fili found a scarf and tucked it around Bilbo. 

“This is ridiculous,” Bilbo snapped, pushing away both of their hands. He straightened out the scarf, patting down his clothes as he glared at the two. “I am certain that either of you could report back to your uncle. I cannot very well host when I am not even home!”

“You see,” Kili said, leaning against Bilbo. He had his classic puppy eyes on, and Bilbo turned his head to glare at Fili instead. Not that they truly worked on Bilbo… for the most part, but it was preferable to look at the elder of the two. Fili had some sense to him. “Bilbo, Uncle wouldn’t believe us if we told him that you said we could stay. He’d just think we were saying it without asking. But if you go and tell him, then he will come back and you won’t have to worry about him wasting any gold.” 

“Right,” Bilbo said, his eyebrows raised. He was not convinced but it was likely that he’d have better luck with going on ahead instead of arguing with the lads. 

“You’ll go then?” Fili asked, smiling as terribly as his brother was. “Otherwise, Uncle will be out there and--”

“I’m going, I’m going, you two can stop it!” Bilbo said, throwing his hands up before he pushed the door open and stepped outside. 

The Green Dragon Inn wasn’t too far away, and it wouldn’t have been a problem, were it not for the fact that some time between Bilbo’s smoke that afternoon and now, the beginnings of a snowstorm had set in. He turned, looking over his shoulder back at his home, but the door to Bag End had closed behind him just as quickly as he had opened it. 

Bilbo sighed and hurried down the lane, focused on the warm glow of the Green Dragon Inn out across the bywater. It would be a longer trip than normal, but he didn’t think that it would take too long. He could survive the snow long enough to make it to Thorin. Then they could make the trek back to Bag End, as dreadful as the idea of going back and forth in the snow was, but then he’d be back in Bag End and warm and safe and with his dwarves. 

Secretly, he was glad for the lack of the other hobbits outside. Despite the years between the trauma of the Fell Winter and now, Bilbo knew just as well as his neighbors why they were not outside in the snow. It was late, besides, but he usually passed at least a handful of his neighbors taking a smoke before supper. With the snow falling heavily, it was unlikely that he’d see another soul until it had settled. 

He half-expected to find Thorin out in the snow, speaking with one of the Cottons but there was no one out in front of the inn either. He spotted the dozen ponies hitched up to the stable outside of the inn, which meant that Thorin had been at the inn at least. Bilbo hoped that he had stepped inside. He hadn’t passed Thorin or any of the other dwarves, either, so he couldn’t have missed them. 

Bilbo didn’t want to have to hunt down a dwarf in the snow. 

Inside the Green Dragon, Bilbo took a moment at the door to warm himself. There weren’t too many patrons tonight, given the snow, which made it far easier to spot Thorin and Gloin at the bar. He let out a sigh of relief before he started over towards the pair. 

“I don’t know if we have the-- oh! Hello, Mr. Bilbo.” The Cotton girl smiled pleasantly at him and Thorin whipped around to look at him. 

“Bilbo!”

“Good to see you, laddie,” Gloin said, smiling as he clapped Bilbo on the arm. “I do hope you’re here to tell us that you’re to house us. Nice as this place is, we really do not need the expense…”

“I am,” Bilbo said, smiling at Gloin. “It is wonderful to see you again, Gloin. You all are more than welcome to call Bag End home. I’d like it very much.”

“Wonderful!” Gloin said, before he turned to Thorin with a grin. “Exactly as I said. If you’ll excuse me, I’d not like to be caught up in a snowstorm.”

“Oh, yes,” Bilbo cleared his throat. “We should go. It was quite bad on my way over here and I’d like to be back in Bag End before the rest of you lot make a mess of it again.”

Gloin chuckled and headed for the door. Bilbo took a step forward, already thinking about the warmth of the fire in Bag End and making his friends dinner and breakfast and all the meals in between. He stumbled when a hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him back. 

“Wait,” Thorin said. 

Bilbo turned to look at him in surprise. Thorin seemed to hesitate then, his hand dropping as he looked to the side of Bilbo’s face awkwardly. 

“Thorin?”

“You understand that I did not wish to intrude upon you, Bilbo. I know what you must think of me.. Of everything, but I had hoped that our parting did not leave us too badly damaged. I hoped that we might continue our friendship. If you are amiable to that, but I would understand if you weren’t, of course, I would not expect anything from you--”

“Thorin,” Bilbo said, holding his hands up with a soft chuckle. “Stop. It’s fine. I… we forgave each other, did we not?” 

“Aye,” Thorin nodded. Slowly, his eyes met Bilbo’s. There was warmth there, that Bilbo hadn’t known he’d missed until he saw it again. He couldn’t help the trembling smile on his mouth. “It has been many years, however, and I did not write to you, which I must apologize for, I didn't mean to make it seem like I was--”

“Stop,” Bilbo grabbed Thorin’s arm. He tried to ignore the flush that crept up his cheeks. Five years apart and he felt like they were right back where they had been before everything with the Arkenstone and the gold sickness and Erebor. Like he was Thorin Oakenshield and not Thorin, King Under the Mountain. 

Slowly, Bilbo let go of him and dropped his eyes from Thorin’s to the ground. 

“You’ve been busy,” Bilbo said, “you’re a king. You don’t have time to write a silly old hobbit. It’s not matter.”

“You…” Thorin’s voice came out strangely. Bilbo looked up, catching the confused look on Thorin’s face. “You are not a silly hobbit, Bilbo. You are my friend, a very dear friend. I was afraid that you would not wish to speak with me, even if we had forgiven each other. That is why I did not write. But I am here, and I wish to make up for that.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said softly, his cheeks warming in surprise. 

That warmth in Thorin felt reflected in Bilbo and he fidgeted for a moment before looking over at the Cotton lass at the bar. “Dear, why don’t you grab two ales for us? I think we’ll enjoy a drink before we head back to Bag End.”

“Bilbo--”

“Let’s sit,” Bilbo said, nodding towards one of the many empty tables. “We have not seen each other in five years, Thorin. As much as I dread what your nephews are doubtlessly going to do to my kitchen, I’d like a moment without them hovering.”

“That I understand,” Thorin chuckled. He joined Bilbo at one of the empty tables. It was strange, the image of Thorin sat down at a table in the Green Dragon. He looked even more the king he was than he had when Bilbo had left Erebor. 

In the five years they had not seen each other, Thorin had grown his beard out to what Bilbo supposed must be a respectable length for a dwarf. He’d stopped mourning the loss of his home, once they had reclaimed it. No reason to keep it shorn close to his chin, like he had all his life. Bilbo thought it looked nice. 

Bilbo thought Thorin was a handsome dwarf. He’d always thought that, from the moment that Thorin had stepped into Bag End all those years ago. He’d been handsome as the leader of his company, as a forlorn prince, and even more so when he’d reclaimed Erebor, when he had been crowned King Under the Mountain. Time had not changed that. Time had, if you asked Bilbo, only made Thorin all that more handsome. 

The Cotton girl brought them ale, then, and Bilbo tried to not linger on the fact that he did find Thorin more attractive and handsome than he had anyone else. 

“I do hope that we are not intruding, and that you are not playing up your welcome of us,” Thorin said. “I know that all of us is quite a lot to accommodate.” 

“I would have appreciated any notice,” Bilbo said, his words slipping into a teasing tone. There was a twinkle in his eye and he watched as Thorin spotted it, relaxing his shoulders from the way they had tensed at Bilbo’s words. “It was not a problem. I do not mind hosting you and the company. I did tell you all that you did not need to bother knocking…” 

He had only wished they might have come not-knocking sooner than they had. 

Yet, here Thorin was, sat across him and enjoying a pint of ale, without any worries. It was not something that he had been expecting. 

At least, not with Thorin truly being there. 

Thorin should have been in Erebor, leading his people, not sharing ale with a hobbit in the middle of a snowstorm. 

“I am afraid that the restoration of Erebor has taken more time than we had thought,” Thorin said. “I hope that you might… well, when it has been brought back to its former glory, I would be most honored if you would return to see it.”

“Of course,” Bilbo said softly, looking down at his ale. When he looked up, he found Thorin looking at him still. His expression softened. “I would like to come and see Erebor again.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Thorin said, his face brightening. It was an expression that Bilbo had rarely seen, but for once, when he had shown Thorin the acorn. An expression that caught up that warm feeling in Bilbo’s stomach and made his heart palpate. 

Something about being there with Thorin was far easier than any other relationship he had. Time passed without Bilbo quite realizing it, and by the time they’d finished their ale, Bilbo thought perhaps they should head back to Bag End, before the snowstorm came down too hard. He couldn’t leave Bag End without a Baggins to host all the dwarves, even if he trusted Bombur’s skill in the kitchen. It just would not do. 

With that thought in mind, he stood up and brushed his hands against his pants, dusting off invisible dirt, “Well! We should go, before--”

“Oh, Mr. Bilbo,” the Cotton lass said, and as Bilbo turned to look at her, he felt a sense of dread. She looked apologetic. “I’m so sorry, but… I don’t think you’ll be able to head back to Bag End tonight. Perhaps in the morning, when my Pa has shoveled the snow out of the way, but the snow came down heavy tonight.”

“Oh no,” Bilbo said. 

“You can rent a room,” the lass offered, before her eyes moved between Bilbo and Thorin. “Or, or two rooms.” 

“One room should suffice,” Thorin said, when Bilbo did not say anything. “Thank you, miss. It would be better if we stayed here for the night, Bilbo. Balin and Dori will keep everyone in check.” 

“Oh dear,” Bilbo managed, as the Cotton lass held out a room key. He took it, and startled when he felt Thorin’s hand on the small of his back. The dwarf pushed him gently towards the stairs that led to the rooms in the inn. 

Perhaps, Bilbo had imagined a scenario not unlike this, a few times, but it had been a day dream that was meant to remain that way. For one thing, Bilbo had never imagined that Thorin might chance himself upon the Shire again, at least not any time soon. For another, he couldn’t have truly believed that he would ever be in an inn with Thorin and be sharing a room with him, for Valar’s sake! Yet Thorin did not appear perturbed by any of this. 

He merely guided Bilbo up the small set of stairs, and then located the door that the key the Cotton lass had given them fit into. When Bilbo did not attempt to unlock the door, as he was trying to process everything that was happening in these measly few seconds, Thorin pried the key from his grip. 

That, more than anything, startled Bilbo from his reverie. He hadn’t even known he’d been holding on so tightly to the key. 

“Are you that worried for Bag End?” Thorin asked, a soft chuckle coloring his words. 

It was a pleasant sound, that warmed Bilbo to hear. Last he had seen of the dwarf, he had been somber and nothing else. Bilbo had not heard him laugh in such a relaxed manner since…. Well, he supposed they hadn’t shared much merriment since they had left Laketown behind. 

“If you must know, I worry that I will return home and your lot will have made a repeat of that first unexpected party.” Bilbo said, maintaining himself as he stepped into the room. 

Of course, he had forgotten that the Green Dragon inn did not have rooms with more than one bed. Hobbits were a comfortable people, who liked the luxury of large beds, and more than that, of sharing that comfort with each other. Besides that, it wasn’t as if friends tended to share rooms at the inn. That was not something that generally happened in the Shire. If two hobbits were sharing a room, well, that was their own business, but it was unlikely that they would need more than one bed. 

Bilbo thought that he and Thorin did need more than one bed. 

“Oh,” Bilbo said, his face fidgeting as he tried to figure out what they should do. 

“What is the matter?” Already, Thorin had sat himself down on the edge of the bed. 

“The bed,” Bilbo said, because there were no two ways about it. There wasn’t much else in the room. Inn rooms were meant for sleeping or… or relaxing, and not very much else. Besides the bed, the room had a fireplace and a washing tub, but it ended there. No reason for more than that, was there? Thorin’s brow pulled and Bilbo hurried on. “Nothing is wrong with the bed itself! Perfectly fine, it is, of course, only… there is only…” 

“Ah,” Thorin made a noise at the back of his throat, but his brow remained furrowed. “I do not see the issue. I suppose I am larger than your average hobbit, but I assure you that I do not take up so much room that we cannot share. You know that.”

Were someone else listening to their conversation, Bilbo would have been more flustered than he was. Suffice to say, he could feel his cheeks flushing red anyway, but he cleared his throat. 

“We are not on the road nor are either of us pinching pennies, Thorin, really, I could just--”

He did not manage more words as Thorin had stood up and pulled Bilbo onto the bed. Bilbo yelped, though the sound was muffled as his head thunked against the stone of Thorin’s chest. 

“Thorin!” 

“My apologies,” Thorin said, though he hardly seemed it. Bilbo could see the twitch of his lip. 

“That was not nice, Thorin.”

“Forgive me,” Thorin’s voice softened. Bilbo pulled away from him, fixing his hair as he leveled him with a mildly annoyed glare, despite the lack of harshness to it. “We have slept together many times, Bilbo, and I do not see why we should not share a bed for one night. It is far better than some of the accommodations we have had.”

“I will agree to that,” Bilbo said, before he let himself fall down onto the bed next to Thorin, gracelessly. “If I never have to sleep on the ground again, it will be too soon.”

Thorin chuckled, laying back down and resting his hands on his stomach. “I did not miss it, myself. We would have been in the Shire sooner, were it not for the matter of lodging. With no rush, I did not see why my people should sleep on the ground again so soon.”

“Either way, I am glad that you are here. I really am.” 

“And I am pleased to hear that,” Thorin said, smiling as he turned his head to look at Bilbo. “This reminds me of when we were at Beorn’s.”

“Oh, yes, that first night that we were able to sleep somewhere that wasn’t the cold hard ground. Even if it was a barn.” Bilbo said, recalling the relief they had all felt when that had made it to Beorn’s home. It had been a blessing to have somewhere to sleep that wasn’t outside. “Though I am glad that it is not then.”

“Don’t miss the traveling?”

“I don’t miss you pretending you were not harmed,” Bilbo said, poking Thorin’s chest gently. Thorin chuckled and caught Bilbo’s hand in his, meeting his eyes and smiling softly. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest. “We, ah, we were all quite worried about you, you know.”

“I was fine. I am fine.” Thorin murmured. He hadn’t let go of Bilbo’s hand. 

He wasn’t letting go of Bilbo’s hand. 

“Bilbo, please… look at me.” 

“You… you are a right and reckless idiot, Thorin, you know that? It doesn’t matter that you’re fine now, you were hurt! And it wasn’t just that once, you kept… I couldn’t…” Bilbo startled, his words trailed off as he met Thorin’s eyes when the dwarf slipped a hand under his chin and tilted his face up. 

“I’m fine, Bilbo, and I am here, and I… am not going anywhere.” Thorin said, stroking his thumb against Bilbo’s cheek gently. 

Bilbo did not know what possessed him, if but his Tookish blood rearing its head in the midst of his Baggins staggering, but before he truly knew what he was doing, Bilbo had surged forward. Thorin barely managed to move his hand from Bilbo’s chin, otherwise the entire situation might have been awkward, but it did not end up that way. 

No, because Thorin did remove his hands from their positions when Bilbo barreled into him, and then the hobbit was pressing his mouth against Thorin’s. Something he had imagined a dozen times, kissing Thorin, was not at all like he had thought it would be. It was so different than what he had thought and so, so much better. 

He thought he could have lost himself there, against Thorin’s mouth. 

Thorin wrapped his arms around Bilbo, pulling Bilbo on top of him as he kissed Bilbo back feverishly. Bilbo could feel his hands tighten as they kissed. He really did think he could lose himself, if he were allowed to, but eventually he had to come up for air. Bilbo didn’t move too far from the kiss, his nose brushing against Thorin’s as he took in a shaky breath. 

“Well,” Bilbo said. 

Thorin chuckled, his hand moving from Bilbo’s back to card his fingers through his hair. “I suppose I made the right decision that we only needed the one room, didn’t I?”

“Oh, shut it,” he grumbled and dropped his head to Thorin’s chest. He was warm, warmer than Bilbo thought he’d ever be after sitting by a fire for hours on end. It was a delicious warmth that Bilbo thought he could easily be distracted by. 

They lay like that for a time, Thorin’s fingers carding through Bilbo’s hair while the hobbit soaked in the warmth from the dwarf. It was, indeed, a fine night to be snowed in, he decided. This wouldn’t have happened at Bag End. 

“You know, I think that I am very glad you had a chance to stop in the Shire on your way to Ered Luin.” Bilbo remarked, smiling into Thorin’s chest. 

But then, Thorin’s fingers stalled in Bilbo’s hair. 

“What?”

“What do you mean what?” Bilbo pushed himself up, looking in Thorin’s face. There was a great deal of confusion on his face. 

“Bilbo, I… I came to the Shire for you.” Thorin said, his voice softer than it had been all evening.

“For me? But-- what--” Bilbo made a few aborted attempts at a sentence before he sat up. Thorin’s hands caught on his waist, steadying him. “Balin said you were headed to a meeting in Ered Luin!”

“Did he,” Thorin muttered, his voice dry as he sighed. 

“Yes!” Bilbo smacked his hand on Thorin’s chest. “What do you mean you came here for me?”

“Bilbo…” Thorin cleared his throat, stroking his thumb against the side of Bilbo’s hip as he considered his words. “It took time for Erebor to be in a state where I might be able to take an extended trip. My intention was always to come visit you and… perhaps, bring you back to Erebor with me. Whether as my dear friend or…”

“Oh, you… silly dwarf,” Bilbo sighed, a fond smile creeping onto his face. “You did not have to come all this way if you wanted me to come back to Erebor. A letter would have sufficed in that regard.”

“I do not think a letter would have been appropriate for what I wished to say. Nor something that you deserved. You deserved to hear everything from me in person, how I felt, what I wanted for us… and I could not ask you to leave your home again in a letter.”

“You needn’t say any of that,” Bilbo murmured, leaning back down and brushing their noses together. “I share your regard, and I… I would like very much to come back to Erebor. To come home.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin’s voice was hoarse, and Bilbo silenced him with another kiss. 

It would be, in the end, a very merry Yuletide indeed.


End file.
